WEEKLY PHOTO #3

Tuesdays in Boulder Junction, Wisconsin (if you're not familiar, please see below) comprise of all the hicks and hippies coming together to sell 25-packs of socks and assorted nuts at the flea market.  It has been known to get out of hand- the locals have ended up on the ground in panic position over numerous occasions (sometimes it's the poisoned nut-apple-berry-mayonnaise butter, or getting bulldozed by the stampede of middle-aged woman fighting over a hummingbird/pinecone/musky emblazoned sweatshirt, with floor length tassels on the arm that reach the floor and trail glitter everywhere they go, that reads "Welcome to the Northwoods, care for some smoked musky?)  In the two weeks we spend Up North, Tuesdays are the only day when we briefly consider washing our hair, but never do, and put on acceptable clothing (normally consisting of our great-grandmother's old yellow-checkered hats and grandfather's wellies), but all the while still wearing our eternally moist swim suit tops and bottoms.  This weekly photo is to illustrate some of the items we like to buy at the Flea Market, and some of the personalities we take on whilst wearing these items.  R-Nasty assumes a deaf/mute man who has only been trained in the art of uncomfortably smiling and takes selfies to sell to help pay for the sardines and pickle relish he buys weekly.  L-Nasty likes to dress provocatively in a hand-crocheted bikini that R-Nasty's 80-year-old Polish neighbor Stella made for her, and shake her goodies for those sexy Boulder Junction boyz. She one day hopes to get a ride in a pickup truck, and maybe even get invited to go deer hunting.
When these two Flea-Market-personalities come together, alert the authorities and pray to the God of Whale Sharkers (GWS).

L-NASTY'S COMMENTS
First off, I would like to congratulate R-Nasty for her uncanny ability to find such blatantly sexual pictures of us as 12-year-olds. I seem to have made that face quite a bit in middle school. I thought all evidence was destroyed, but you clearly have a series of collages of my exquisite face hidden in a slightly worn shoebox hidden under your pillow. This blog is basically built-in birth control. I would just like to add a little detail to the descriptors of the sweatshirts. My personal favorites are the children's hoodies that have "Grandma's Lil Cupcakes" emblazoned across the chest. Our own (least) favorite elderly lady/Grandma once tried to buy us a pair, but it was  clearly meant to be ironic, as her distaste for us is matched only by her deeply rooted hatred for small animals and children. Another great love of mine are the pale blue sweaters that have small bears on them. These pint-sized teddies are almost always waving their petite paws at an even daintier moon, and there is usually some kind of super cool glow-in-the-dark feature and maybe even some bric-a-brac applique. My collection has grown significantly in the past years, to the point that I have had to stop sleeping in my bedroom, as it has become so full, and move to the tiny space under the basement stairs. My sweaters deserve only the best. While my therapist has misguidedly brought up the possibility that I am searching for human affection and motherly love, I just think I have mild hoarding tendencies.

Contrabassoons and PHOTO MONTAGES

So we just unearthed a song that we wrote about Peach, the giant loon. When you spend three weeks in the woods of Wisco, your options get pretty limited. We worked really hard at developing our casual dance skills. Our dream was to just walk into a room and start grooving til all chatter ceases. GOAL ACCOMPLISHED. Wait! Similiar story...we were in the Bahamas and felt pretty mistreated by our parents, and also pretty sugar high from the three bags of wine gums we had downed. So we dressed in muumuus and caftans and put some boxers on our heads and went out to the living room to jive to some opera for a while. Unfortunately, neighbours stopped by at the same time, and saw us dressed in our finest dancewear. L-Nasty was trying to booty pop, and R-Nasty was just tryna get by in a gangsta's world. We now have to take the alternate beach route because they think that we are just a bunch of godless sexpots (especially in those highly titillating muumuus. One of us an effort to see them only whilst wearing tie-dyed underpants (GOAL COMPLETED TWICE). Wait, so the original story was about the loons. We were on our routine two mile swims where R-Nasty starts backstroking and just goes in circles and L-Nasty doesn't tell her (AND R-NASTAY STILL HASN'T LEARNED). While we were swimming, we saw two loons ten feet away from us GET INTO A HUGE ASS KERFLUFFLE AND THEN ONE DISAPPEARED UNDERWATER. So we sat there waiting, and it never reappeared. We were half an hour away from any land and one of us cried the entire way back. After we had gotten a hold of ourselves and googled PTSD symptoms, we decided to heal the pain and fear through song. This song is dedicated to Peach, you silly bitch.

Peach's Demise

While swimming through the lagoon

on a fancy shmancy night,

we heard a big "SHABOON!"

our hearts skipped a beat

as we shrieked like baboons.

it was not an octopus,

nor a racoon,

nor a nectarine,

but a loon.

The loon was very scary.

His eyes glowed like a meteorological balloon.

We watched as he opened his beak,

and out came a sinister tune/

He began swirling around us,

creating a water typhoon.

At that exact moment,

we wished we were in Picayune (Mississippi)

The loon looked unquestionably masculine,

especially with his bull tattoon.

"I'm going to make you into cheese falafels,

for i am the Big Loon" he boomed.

We cowered in scaredness,

but then we remembered our harpoons

that we always in our butt pockets.

They were always boon.

We pulled out our weapons,

and aimed at him contrabassoon.

His musical instrument shouted,

"Peach, oh Big Loon, help me before I turn into a prune!"

We erupted into fits of laughter,

for now we were immune,

to this dangerous creature,

known as "Peach, the Big Loon."

Peach's face turned a delightful cherry-bomb red

"I am as embarrassed as Daniel Boone.

because my name Peach does not match my obvious virility!"

Now we hatched from our cocoons

and killed Peach with a dozen plantains.

This song/poem really helped us deal with the stress of becoming superstars in the Netherlands.

PHOTO MONTAGE TIME!!!!

L-Nasty, V-Nasty, and R-Nasty reciting Peach's Demise. Those really sexual matching sweaters we have on say "Northwoods Musky Hunters". Don't rush all at once, boiz!

R-Nasty and one of our favorite cheerleaders in the background. He really supported us through all the problems we had accepting our oozing sexuality.

THE BEST TOWN IN THE WORLD, BOULDER JUNCTION!!!!! ON FRIDAY NIGHTS, YOU CAN GO TO THE DUMP AND WATCH THE BEARS!

Before we got creepy.

IN WHICH WE MARCH TO THE 49TH STATE

L-Nasty here! The dynamic duo will be reunited next weekend, but till then just picture the two of us in matching jim jams (L-Nasty's probably has old waffle bits stuck to it) twitching to Sex by Garrison Keillor (it features a boy who never saw full-frontal nudity until he was seventeen years old and a feature film about naked people jumping up and down). Crusty food items and nude hopping aside, the POLLS ARE IN! We don't really understand it, but apparently you guys feel that a whale shark can be summarized as voluptuous. We weren't aware that sharks had breasticles, but now we kinda see it! If R-Nasty were here, she would be busy compulsively photoshopping boobs onto sharks (in a really non-creepy manner).

So, we have some exhilarating news. Besides the fact the WE ARE HIT SENSATIONS IN RUSSIA WHAT THE SHMUCK CAN YOU BELIEVE IT! I'M TRYING TO PHOTOSHOP A TALL POOFY HAT ONTO A SHARK FOR ALL YOU RUSSIANS OUT THERE! but actually, besides that, DUZCUZ IS HEADIN TO ALASKA! yessir, this july we will be spending a month backpacking and sea kayaking. Some haturz have asked us questions like "What will you eat?!?" and "Where will you do the poop?". WE WILL SURVIVE UPON MAMMA NATURE'S SWEET SWEET SOIL. R-Nasty will spend her days collecting small to mid-sized shrubs and cooking them over a low flame until crispy, while L-Nasty will spend her hours working on becoming a man of the mountain and growing a luxurious beard. And to all the naysayers who think we need a toilet: READ OUR EARLIER POSTS. We strongly enjoy going where the wind blows us. If that is in front of someone's tent, then SO BE IT.
We gotta run and hit that haystack (?), but we'll leave you with a weekly photo...

ALL THE DUZ CUZZES ASSEMBLE. check out the innate sensuality of those fuzzy turtles in the back... (they're second cousins...we don't talk about the accident)

Our Top Five Favorite Songs (and why they are our favorite)

1.  Call Me Maybe (Carly Rae Jepsen) [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fWNaR-rxAic&ob=av3e]-  We like this song because its catchy hook leaves us a lil manic and foaming at the mouth.  There's nothing we enjoy more than jamming to some Carly Rae with while big bois P-Menace and F-Dilly maniacally gouge our legs.  Also, this is why we have to clear our internet history before lending our computers to others.
2.  Gucci Gucci (Kreayshawn) [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6WJFjXtHcy4]-  We like to believe that we are the equivalent of Kreayshawn and V-Nasty, hence our blog nicknames.  We're also both jealous of the classiness of the string hanging out of her nose that connects to her ear. One of us literally has dreams where she becomes Kreyshawn and holding back soft, soft sobs, struck by the pain of never being that gucci  And finally, remember, Gucci Gucci, Louis Louis, Fendi Fendi, Prada.
3.  Sounds of Silence (Simon and Garfunkel) [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4zLfCnGVeL4&feature=fvst]-  We use this song as our power tool for shutting down a conversation.  It's not a slow termination, it's immediate.  We last sang this in the trunk of a car on New Year's Eve.  There was a casual banter happening in the front from which we felt discluded.  One low mutter of "the souuuuuuuunds of sileeeeeence," and the car broke into a deafening silence and uncomfortably nervous glances.  This song is to be used for emergencies only.
4.  Hair (Gavin Creel) [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BFy-yzj02FE]-  We often find ourselves in situations in the trunks of cars.  Here begins another one of the those stories.  Whilst attempting to cause another uncomfortable silence, L-Nasty (equipped with all the lyrics) initiated Hair.  Unfortunately, R-Nasty did not know any of the song.  So L-Nasty was forced to whisper the lyrics to her before each line.  This in fact became an even stronger asset as everyone in the car began to fear us.
5.  Person of Interest (Rebecca Black) [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ljbZKQIUZvM]-  Finally, we come to Rebecca Black.  "When she sings, we listen, and we like that."  While some may say that Friday was the peak of her career, we beg to differ.  Justin Bieber is not child-like enough, so the boy in this video really gets us going, yeah.  We also admire her lack of shame in ending every sentence with yeah.  Yeah.  Yeah.

Lil Jon ft. Diesel Playa and Verbose Loaf